


The Snakewood Tree

by kyrilu



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - J.K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, Family Secrets, Gen, Ghosts, Ilvermorny, Missing Scene, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrilu/pseuds/kyrilu
Summary: Sometime after leaving Hogwarts, Tom Riddle searches for Salazar Slytherin's wand. The trail leads to Ilvermorny.





	The Snakewood Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I've gotten stuck on the longfic I'm writing and I ended up writing this...IDK either. 
> 
> This fic makes no sense unless you've read Pottermore's [history of Ilvermorny](https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/ilvermorny) section. (although of course there's some nonsense things I added there at the end)

The waters of the creek were very still. There was something about it that was less murky--less foreboding--than the Great Lake of Hogwarts, for the creek’s surface shone in the sun, peppered with fluttering lily pads.

But it was certainly not home to a Giant Squid, Tom thought, as he knelt by the edge of it. It was home to something better and more powerful.

“ _Speak to me_ ,” he said, the sibilance easy on the tip of his tongue. “ _The Great Horned Serpent of Ilvermorny. The last of Slytherin’s line callssss to you.”_

The creek’s waters rippled, parting to reveal a serpent with piercing blue eyes and three horns. It was a magnificent creature, Tom knew, more intelligent than the lumbering basilisk at Hogwarts. It was not a thing to be kept, although perhaps, one day in the future...

He bowed, his dark robes sweeping with the gesture. “ _Greetingsss. My name is Lord Voldemort, and I come to ask for a boon.”_

 _“A speaker,”_ the serpent hissed back. She had a hoarse rasping voice that echoed throughout the clear spring morning air. “ _You claim to be the last Slytherin, do you?_ ”

And there was a strange note of...amusement...there. Tom thought about pathetic Morfin Gaunt, who was languishing in Azkaban now.

“ _I tell the truth,”_ he said. “ _My ancessstry is of the Gauntsss.”_

And he held up the ring on his finger. He did not have the locket, for he had secreted it away to a safe place.

“ _Gaunt,”_ the serpent said sharply. “ _What do you ssseek here, so-called little lord?_ ”

Tom bared his teeth, fought down the urge to bristle. Of course the ancient creature would act imperious, dismissive; it did not know it faced, he, Lord Voldemort, who had created his own immortality, who commanded the basilisk of Hogwarts, who would someday rise as leader of the purebloods.

Yet he was not ready yet.

“ _I found old writingssss of my ancestor Gormlaith Gaunt,”_ Tom said. “ _Much of it was ruined by time, unreadable, but I dissscovered that she left for America in pursuit of Salazar Slytherin’sss wand, which had been stolen from her. The wand listenss to a sspeaker, and I wish to claim it as my heritage…”_

Gormlaith Gaunt’s writings had been stored in the library in the Chamber of Secrets. One of Gormlaith’s descendents or relatives must have unearthed it and left it there.

Tom painstakingly attempted to decipher the faint traces of ink and the antiquated language, trying to reconstruct history--his history.

He was proud of his yew and phoenix feather wand, but to have Salazar Slytherin’s wand would truly be a worthy feat. He wanted to wield it for himself.

From what Tom could learn of the remaining text, Gormlaith Gaunt was angry, very angry, at the theft of the wand. She railed against a girl who she soon heard was at the newly founded Ilvermorny-- _Morrigan,_ Gormlaith called her, _foolish ungrateful girl_ \--and she talked of her scheme to command the wand through Parseltongue.

Tom deduced that Gormlaith Gaunt had failed in retrieving the wand. It was not in the Chamber of Secrets’ library, and other Slytherin descendants wrote wistfully of its disappearance. The wand had certainly not been present in the dilapidated Gaunt shack.

That meant it likely was still here. In America, perhaps at Ilvermorny, and it stood to reason that the Horned Serpent possessed knowledge of it.

The Horned Serpent may have even spoken to Gormlaith Gaunt, like the basilisk of Hogwarts was Slytherin’s.

“ _Yesss,”_ the serpent hissed; and the horns on its head, chipped, seemed to flash strangely in the sunlight. “ _Many centuries ago, Gormlaith Gaunt was here. She was vanquished, and the wand was buried outside Ilvermorny’s groundsss…”_

The serpent made a strange sound that could have been a growl or a laugh.

“ _Walk ten paces away from the wards’ boundaries, at the foot of Mount Greylock,”_ she said. “ _You will see the burial place. It is marked.”_

Tom dipped his head. “ _I thank you for heeding the blood of Salazar Slytherin.”_

 _“Lord Voldemort,”_ the serpent said, and she was definitely laughing this time, “ _I am not beholden to Slytherin’s blood. Do you think, I, of this old country, am bound to a human of another? I have my own loyaltiesss. And I See you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, I See you…”_

Horned serpents had prophetic abilities of divination. Tom found his face hardening, his hand reaching for his wand--but no, he knew he did not have the power to slay a creature like her.

Not yet, not yet…

It was a clarion call, a fresh reminder. He was always--always--not ready yet.

Tom pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, and it partially obscured the sharp features of his pale face and his dark eyes.

He started the journey down the mountain.

 

* * *

 

The wand’s burial place was a snakewood tree. Tom’s eyes widened at the sight of it, and he bit back a curse.

Of course. That was why the Horned Serpent had laughed.

The tree must have sprouted from the wand. It had not been contained in a box or fabric or some kind of magic, as Tom had assumed.

The wand’s wild magic must have led to growth--rendering it unusable.

Salazar Slytherin’s wand reduced to a _tree_ in America.

Then, Tom stiffened when he heard footsteps. There was a boy, thirteen or fourteen years of age, wandering down the foot of the mountain.

Dressed in blue and red robes, he was clearly an Ilvermorny student. Dark eyed, brown-skinned, brown hair swept over his forehead.

The boy made his way to the snakewood tree. He looked around, searching for someone. Tom retreated more closely behind the bush he was standing behind; he did not wish to attract undue attention at Ilvermorny, with professors back up at the castle.

“Rionach!” the boy called.

It took a few more moments until a ghost appeared. The ghost was a middle aged woman with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing robes that were of Ilvermorny colors as well.

“What took you so long?” the boy asked her. “I was going to tell you about news from home. Mama told me to say hi. She’s still busy helping MACUSA capture Grindelwald’s remaining followers.”

The ghost had looked conflicted, worried, as she joined the boy, but now her shimmering face seemed to smooth over into a smile. “I’m happy to hear word from your mother. I suppose your father’s busy as well.”

“Very,” the boy said seriously. “He’s still running the company and working with MACUSA with political stuff, too.”

The ghost nodded. Then she said, “I spoke with the Horned Serpent. She warned of a stranger on Ilvermorny grounds.”

“ _A sstranger?_ ” the boy said, startled. Tom froze at his use of Parseltongue--the ghost’s mention of speaking to the serpent--and, suddenly, the serpent’s laughter at Tom’s claim to be the _last_ Slytherin made sense as well--

Bloody snake.

Who was the ghost? Who was the boy? How could there be Parselmouths here in America?

“He’s here,” the ghost said abruptly, evenly, turning in Tom’s direction. “Tom Riddle.”

Tom stepped out from the bushes, his eyes flashing red. He did not reach for his wand--how dangerous was a ghost and a child?--but he gazed at them warily.

“Do not,” he said, “call me by that name.”

The ghost--Rionach--only smiled at him slightly. “That was the name the serpent gave me. She said you were here for Slytherin’s wand.”

At that, the boy raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “It’s a tree. There’s not much use for it. My father said that its leaves have healing properties and it’s important to the school’s history--but it isn’t a wand anymore.”

“I have fathomed as much,” Tom said, dryly, surveying the useless bundle of branches and leaves with distaste.

“You have a British accent,” the boy remarked. “Did you really come all the way from there to look for the wand?”

Tom didn’t deign to answer to that.

“ _He’s a ssspeaker_ _like us,”_ Rionach said. “ _A descendent of Gormlaith Gaunt.”_

That name immediately transformed the expression on the boy’s face into alarm.

“Who are you?” Tom said, a cool measured demand.

“Rionach Steward,” said the ghost. “And this boy is Elijah Boot.”

“The thief,” Tom murmured. “The thief of Slytherin’s wand. Morrigan.”

“She was my mother,” Rionach said. “Gormlaith Gaunt’s niece.”

Isolt Sayre. The founder of Ilvermorny. There weren’t any existing records that connected her to the Slytherin line, to the Gaunts--it must be a well-kept family secret.

“The Slytherin line continued in America,” Tom said, very still. He was not the only one.

“Rionach didn’t want it to continue,” piped up Elijah. “She’s a Parselmouth and didn’t have any children. But her sister--a Squib--married a No-Maj and I come from that side of the family. Because magic and Parseltongue eventually showed up in my mother and then me.”

“Indeed,” Rionach said, looking at the boy with warm fondness. She put a transparent hand on his shoulder, then said gently, “Go to class, Elijah. I will deal with him.”

The boy paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She pointed to herself. “Ghost.”

Elijah dithered, anxious, and he ambled off. Tom watched his retreating back, letting him go.

“The Horned Serpent said you pose a potential threat and you have dangerous ambitions,” Rionach said, soft. “I’ll let you know that Ilvermorny is under her protection and the pukwudgies’. Do you think you can face them all? You cannot touch that boy.”

“His parents--?” Tom found himself saying tonelessly.

“His mother heads the nation’s largest private Auror agency, and his father is head of the Boot-Calderon Company, both with significant political influence. I didn’t expect the Boot and Sayre families to find themselves together again--but they did, through marriage of distant descendents.”

Then Rionach said simply, “Tom Marvolo Riddle, you have no power here. The Horned Serpent Sees you, and she knows the many prophecies--futures--that will destroy you utterly. Continue traveling the world, return to Britain, but remember you are no lord here and never will be.”

Tom sneered, and thought--

\--she was right.

He could not reveal himself yet, waging war and plunging into politics, especially on foreign soil.

Still--still--not ready. The familiarity of that refrain made him enraged, made him feel that breathless helplessness that he felt ever since he was a boy in that filthy Muggle orphanage.

“Then one day,” he said, feeling a smirk curl the edges of his mouth, “I will be ready.”

Rionach Steward looked at him with calm translucent eyes. “Go. Perhaps you will have a fate like Gormlaith Gaunt’s, a menacing murderer felled by prophecy. Perhaps you will become like my mother, whose bravery and wisdom set an example for generations to come, despite the tragedy of her past. Those with Slytherin blood have many paths to walk.”

I have the power over life and death, Tom thought, his hand flexing, the ring set upon his finger. I will _become--_ I will _purify--_ I will _return_ with vengeance, for I, I am Slytherin’s true heir--

He disapparated in a burst of black, his dark cloak rustling behind him.

 

* * *

 

Elijah Boot stubbornly refused to budge from a nearby tree. He emerged from behind his hiding spot, and said, quietly, “That man, Rionach--there’s something about him that isn’t _human._ Don’t you think we should call my professors? My parents? MACUSA?”

“It’ll be many years to come until he starts causing trouble,” Rionach said. She reached over to grasp his hand, a chilling grip that made Elijah laugh at its coldness. “He’ll be Britain’s problem.”

Elijah frowned, then remembered something. “You didn’t say anything about Uncle Credence.”

His uncle was a hero from Grindelwald’s war, the first and only Obscurial to have survived long and control his abilities.

Credence had been separated from his sister--Elijah’s mother--when he was young, adopted by a mad No-Maj, but the siblings had eventually reunited much later in life.

Although Credence wasn’t a Parselmouth, Rionach always theorized that much of his power came from inherited magic from the Slytherin and Sayre lines, somehow increased after generations of No-Majs. For Eleonora was powerful, too.

“I have a feeling he’s had enough of fighting dark wizards for a lifetime,” Rionach said, with a sigh. “Don’t worry, Eli. There is still time. The Horned Serpent did prophesy that stranger’s downfall, regardless of the variant nature of predictions.”

And Elijah very well knew how the prophecy Isolt Sayre heard turned out. Nodding, he said, “Alright. Let’s go back up to the castle.”

And they went up the mountain together, the boy and the ghost. The snakewood tree remained standing in its place, the wilted wand of legacy still firmly twisted among the dirt and the roots, forever unclaimed.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a helluva lot of my headcanon backstory behind Eleonora & Alejandro Boot, Elijah's parents, but that is another story to be told another time (if I have the work ethic to finish the FB fic in question). Yes, I have descended into OC hell
> 
> ETA: also, I really don't think Isolt Sayre's ties with Slytherin is common knowledge. The Ilvermorny school song very pointedly has the blatant lie that she fled Ireland because of No-Majs (likely post-Salem/post-Rappaport propaganda). You also get the sense that there's so much baggage tied up with the heritage, since Isolt suffered so much due to Gormlaith. So yeah, we might get the whole story through Pottermore, but the Wizarding World in-universe? Nah, the family kept it under wraps.


End file.
